"And I don’t believe it will be next June, either," he said with a grin. "Jim!" "Yes?" "You’re a plain masculine brute! You say you know what I am. If you do, tell me _now_! I maintain that I’m only a silken rustle and a hint of scent. Am I a louder episode than that, Jim?" "The vault of heaven rings with you!" he assured her, laughing. "Harmoniously?" "Entrancingly." "Well, that’s better," she nodded dubiously. "Evidently I’m not the kind of a noise that gets arrested. Jim, when the others come in, shall we have supper?" "Tons of it, dear lady. They’ll have to push me out of this hotel before I consent to go." "Do you mean it?" "Militantly—truculently!" "_Are_ you glad to see me?" He glanced at her with an odd expression, then turned aside to set his cigarette afire. "Yes, I’m glad," he said. She took one of his cigarettes, lighted it, savored it daintily, then leaned back watching mm. Their eyes encountered, and they smiled. "Where are the others, Diana?" "Jack and Silvette are at the New Theater. Mr. Rivett and Mr. Dineen are sitting somewhere, cheek by jowl, looking wealthy." "How does one look wealthy?" "_You_ always do, Jim." "Thank fortune for that. It ought to land me somewhere on the grandstand." "Haven’t you noticed," she said, "that some people always _look_ wealthy? I don’t know exactly what it is about them; it has nothing to do with breeding, or clothes, or careful grooming." "Neither has wealth," he smiled. "That’s trite; you’re becoming too prosperous to remain clever. But, oh, Jim! _isn’t_ it fine!" she exclaimed impulsively. "What is fine?" "Why, your success, of course! Your splendid interest in the business—your fitting yourself for a position of honor among your peers! It is fine! fine! And it is the happiest thing that has ever happened in my life!" He looked at her. "You dear girl," he said quietly. "I? It was none of my doing. You’re mistaken if you think so. Once you said something of that sort in a letter to me; but it isn’t true, Jim. You have found yourself; the credit is yours alone." "I give credit to the far white gods.... In that Olympian Pantheon one is known as Diana." "She of the Ephesians—yes. She was great, wasn’t she? Did you ever hear of the fly who said, ’I lie on my back in space, balancing the world on my six legs’? The fly was quite right; there’s no top or bottom point to this sphere—or to your logic, Jim." He smiled quietly. "Did _you_ ever hear of that Chinese goddess of the lotus, Kwan-Yin, who, from her blossom throne in the Happy Isles, rescues lost souls?" "With how many incarnations are you going to endow me, Jim?" "Do you think I am endowing you with anything you do not already possess?" "What do I possess?" she laughed; "blue eyes and a fair skin and a heart as mercenary as a Persian pussy’s. Warmed in the sunshine of life, I radiate purrs; but I’m a slit-eyed opportunist in storm and stress." After a moment he said: